


Helios

by Noscere



Series: Titans (RWBY) [5]
Category: RWBY
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 07:05:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5858998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noscere/pseuds/Noscere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even gods must fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helios

**Author's Note:**

> Lord and embodiment of the sun. The all-seeing. When Hades stole Persephone away, the Sun saw and told the weeping Demeter. Supplanted in his role by Apollo, son of Leto, daughter of the Titan Koios.

Ribbons of Grimm matter swirl around her, caught in the winds wrapped around her form. Milo slices through a Hippogriff’s throat – Pyrrha pivots, bringing Akouo up to meet an Ursa’s claws – she digs a heel into the soft-churned ground and scatters the bear-like Grimm to the wind. Pyrrha twists her hand, black Auric energy vibrating from her very bones. Amber’s soul adds to the energy, feeding wine-red magic to the fire. Sharp pain lances through Pyrrha’s hand as the two energies combine. Tiny tips of flame peek out of her palm. A Griffin lands before her, white beak frozen in a shriek. The flames surge out, and reduce the beast to dust.

Jaune finishes off a Creep with a slash of Crocea Mors. He lunges for Cinder, his hair a blaze of gold against the darkness that besets him.

“You have your champion.” A red-black portal appears on Cinder’s palm. Out tumbles a Beowolf, 2 meters tall, dull gold markings scrawled onto the edges of its spikes. Two thick pads of bone cover its shoulders like epaulettes. “And I have mine.”

The Grimm wrenches out one of bones to meet Jaune’s blade.

Cinder’s assault does not relent. Glyphs wreathed in tiny clocks encircle her hands. The Grimm whirling around Pyrrha dissipate into fine mist. Every breath Pyrrha takes is syrup in her lungs.

The Beowolf fight on. One hand brings down the rib bone on Jaune’s shield – the other slashes at the knight’s side, three-inch long claws carving deep gouges into the armor. Jaune butts the beast with the rim of his shield. The Grimm snarls, and sends the knight flying with a sharp kick to the gut.

“Amber, we sisters shouldn't fight,” Cinder says as Jaune hits the ground. The knight lies limp at Pyrrha’s feet, blood trickling through his sweater.

The Beowolf rears onto its hindlegs. A smear of something, cardinal-wing red, is splayed across its chest. It holds its rib in a five-fingered paw and charges forward, jaws bared. Jaune shoves an armored arm into the beast’s maw, just before the jaws close on his side. The knight struggles to his feet and brings his sword down on the Beowolf’s head.

Pyrrha makes to respond, but Amber is faster. “Like hell there is!”

Amber charges forward, the maple leaves caught in her wake surging forward. Sharp crystals of frost coat their edges.

“Let me take what is mine.” White flames surge from the ground beneath Cinder’s feet, and burn away the storm of leaves. “You don’t know what I can do with it.”

“Let me guess. Turn us into your puppets?” Amber asks, pushing Pyrrha back. She lunges forward, Milo held aloft in one arm, Akouo protecting her side in the other. “You talk of hunger one second, and of righting wrongs the next.”

“The two can coexist.” Cinder brings up twin blades, deflecting Milo. “Unlike two souls, in one body. One must decay if the other is to live.”

Pyrrha waits in the recesses of her body: to take control now would leave her open to attack. Amber summons a ball of lighting in the palm of her left hand, and shoves it in the other Maiden’s face. “I’ll find a goddamn way,” Amber vows as Cinder’s skin melts.

A gust of wind shoves Amber back. Pyrrha surfaces once again. Fall Maiden faces off against Fall Maiden, their chosen weapons held at the ready.

 

The warrior takes a deep breath, clearing the spots from her vision. Something is wrong. Her body is fragile, like a trunk withered by beetle grub boring in its core, and yet something within her jitters with unusual strength. There is a hunger that has yet to be sated, a wolf that has tasted blood but not flesh. The Maiden inside her longs to be reunited with its sister, but her body cannot contain this power. 

And so the power of Fall bursts out, in spurts and gouts.

She brings Milo up to block a strike. Maple leaves flake off her gloves. Pyrrha heaves against the other fighter.

Milo slices through the sword. It continues downward, hacking through Cinder’s arm at the elbow.

The backlash knocks her several feet away. But Cinder is not howling like a wounded beast caught in a trap. Instead, she’s… laughing.

“How vicious. Beacon’s best and brightest, reduced to a murderer like this.” Pyrrha raises herself onto her elbows and catches sight of Cinder’s grin. “I’m sure Penny would have some words about this. Or she would, if she weren’t in quarters.”

Pyrrha freezes.

She looks down and takes a shuddering breath. Nausea swells within her belly. Penny’s eyes were wide and innocent, like a fawn nestled in some leaf-lined den. No. Not the time. She has to fight!

“I… It was my fault, I know, I never wanted to hur–“

“Hurt her?” Cinder flicks her remaining hand. The detached arm lying on the ground jumps back into its socket. Golden flames reseal the connection. “But you did. You slaughtered her.”

Amber pushes past the stunned Pyrrha and charges. Blade meets blade – somehow, despite her injury, Cinder is stronger and faster and hungrier. The flames in her eyes glow, zeroing in on the power in Pyrrha and Amber’s souls.

Cinder brings a sword twirling through the air, aimed at Amber’s neck. Amber dodges and shoves Akouo into the woman’s chest. They claw at each other, carving chunks of flesh from limbs. All that exists in this moment is the two Fall Maidens, each reaching for the power within the other.

Slowly, Amber tires. Her body is heavy and fragile, like a reanimated terracotta warrior. Cinder must sense her weakness – she presses her advantage, until she strikes hard and fast and Milo flies out of Amber’s hands.

“Give up, darling,” Cinder says. “Go back to the dead. There is nothing for you here.”

Amber reaches for Milo. She tries to pull the sword to her hand. But that is Pyrrha’s power. And Pyrrha’s soul is slumbering, buried deep underneath Amber’s soul.

 

Amber runs towards the sword. She tries to summon a gale storm to cover her path. Only a few meager breezes brush her hair.

A fireball lands by her feet. Amber jumps back.

“You’re a ghost in a shell, darling,” Cinder says. “Have you looked at yourself? Your old body is dead. There is nowhere for you to go if you die here.”

It's stupid. Maybe it's the fatigue from twelve hours of combat, but Amber raises a gloved hand before her face.

“I don’t have a body…?” Amber turns the hand over – an unfamiliar, milk-pale face with emerald green eyes stares back at her.

How did she not realize it? This is not her body. Shock, most likely, from forcing her entire soul into another body. But now that she knows, she cannot look away - she sees another woman's body - oh, sweet Dust, she has robbed someone of what is rightfully theirs – there is no escape, but death – if she dies, will this body die as well? What of the girl who owns this body? She longs for the sun-kissed skin she knew so well - but that is gone, she has nothing but a stolen skin.

“I have had enough of your shit,” Amber growls.

Amber digs deep within Pyrrha’s soul, finding the prickle-iron-filing sense of the girl’s Semblance.

 _I'll make it up to you_ , she promises, though she can already feel her sanity slipping away.

She casts it out towards Cinder and the Beowolf. The Beowolf has no trace of iron. But Cinder – the black diamonds dangling from her ears and the circlet about her ankle are mainly gold.

But they are not pure gold.

Amber tugs on the impurities. Steam vents from her body as she forcibly drags Pyrrha’s power to her fingers.

The earrings jump to Amber’s hands, ripping apart Cinder’s earlobes.

The anklet is harder to convince – it digs deep into the other Maiden’s flesh.

 

Cinder screams.

Hellfire rises around the other Maiden, shoving melted flesh back into place and burying the gold anklet in skin. Ancient glyphs swirl through the air, congealing in Cinder’s hands and eyes. Cinder’s eyes burn, thick gouts of flame spouting from the sides.

A wall of flame sweeps towards Amber. Amber braces herself, bringing wind and stone to her defense. It’s not enough – her body is sore, her soul is weary, and all she can do is watch the flames sweep over her.

But there is no fire eating at her face, like when the usurper stole her powers.

Jaune’s arms are tight around her waist, his Aura radiating from his body. The fire washes over his back.

A few stray flames lick at her hair. He gently pats them out.

Something warm and light tugs at her soul, something that tastes of sunlight-flecked leaves settled on the forest floor and the sweetness of Forever Fall. Something resonates within Pyrrha, but not Amber, pulsing gently to the beat of her heart.

In that moment, Jaune sees: he sees a body suspended in a capsule, far below Beacon – a girl who felt like winds rustling through the Emerald Forest – a tiny girl, skin the color of Valean sand, suddenly disappearing into mist. And he understands.

 _Pyrrha_. _We need to go_ , she feels more than hears. It’s a voice that sounds of late-night spars on the roof, and comic books hidden beneath textbooks. _The ships are here_.

Amber struggles against them both, anger coursing through that decaying soul.

 

Pyrrha takes a deep breath. Jaune’s arms loosen, and fall to his sides. She makes to charge through the maelstrom of flames and bring the Beowolf down.

(She swears she can see the ghost of an old man, a cane in hand, hovering behind the Grimm.)

Jaune grabs her hand.

“Pyrrha! That’s Cardin!”

Something toxic leaks from Cinder, something primordial and untamed, as she weaves yet another spell. The Beowulf at her side looks between her and the duo.

“Little one,” Cinder says. “He cost you everything.”

“Cardin.” Jaune’s voice is not harsh, or angry, for all that Cardin has done or could have done to him. He sounds weary. “Come back.”

The Beowolf growls and tilts its head.

“I know. You look like hell.” Jaune sheathes Crocea Mors, and holds his hands out. “Listen. We’ve had our differences. They’re not worth dying for.”

“What are you waiting for?” Cinder snaps her fingers. “Kill him.”

The Grimm’s eyes burn as it lunges for Jaune’s throat. Underneath the hatred and the fury, there is something unmistakably human.

“Listen to me, Cardin! We’re Huntsmen! We defend the people, no matter what we look like or who we are!” Jaune slides his sword into his belt and braces for impact with his shield. “You had all the chances to turn me in, and get me kicked out of Beacon. You didn’t. You still have a choice now.”

He grips the Beowolf’s head. His hands glow bright white.

The Beowolf stops. It leaps off Jaune’s prone body and settles onto its haunches, considering the duo. After a short silence, it whuffs, and faces Cinder.

 

Pyrrha slowly lowers her weapon. She hasn’t forgiven Cardin – she has seen his like too often before, back when a photo of her in a bikini could buy someone a brand new Scroll. His wanton cruelty to his fellow Faunus classmates leaves much to be desired.

Amber claws her way to the surface once more. This time, the combat of two souls is too much for Pyrrha’s body. She collapses into the churned dirt, fire pouring from her eyes.

Jaune and the Beowolf share a quick look.

The Beowolf lunges for Cinder. She makes to smite it with a long ribbon of glyphs – but there is that ghostly man once more, deflecting the spell, and the Beowolf launches itself at Cinder’s knees.

Jaune hoists Pyrrha over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. The airship is a mere twenty-five meters away. He is no athlete, but his partner is in danger.

There’s still enough Pyrrha in the body, still enough of the warrior that recognizes the danger and holds up Akouo to protect Jaune’s back. Amber, on the other hand, is not so easily quelled. The Maiden’s soul sends out everything it has in one last assault. The powers of Autumn flare from her left arm – roaring fire that consumes dead brush and fallen leaves, cold wet gusts that saps the heat from limbs, hungry lightning that seeks to ground itself in flesh and the decay, the death that comes when the frost covers the ground and the sun suffocates behind a thick coverlet of clouds.

The power blasts Cardin and Cinder indiscriminately, in thick pulses that shoot from Pyrrha’s palms. Residual heat melts through Jaune’s sweater, burning his back.

Jaune makes it to the ship. He carries them into the mouth of a waiting Bullhead, then collapses on the steel deck, Pyrrha still flailing on his back.

The Bullhead takes to the skies.

Beacon fades into a burning pinprick, until the night snuffs out the flame.


End file.
